


Maybe if we face up to this (we can make it through this)

by mrsyt31



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-16
Updated: 2012-05-16
Packaged: 2017-11-05 12:07:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/406228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsyt31/pseuds/mrsyt31
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The realization that he is in love with his best friend sneaks up on Harry out of nowhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe if we face up to this (we can make it through this)

**Author's Note:**

> Umm. So this is a thing. My first 1D fic. First thing of any substance I've written in over a year, tbh. I blame Mathab for luring me in with lingering gazes and inappropriate touching. She knew I'd never be able to resist. 
> 
> Thanks to _fainthearted for pre-reading and being a great cheerleader. This is unbeta'd, so there are probably loads of mistakes, and I'm not British, so forgive if my choice of words or phrasing is off.
> 
> Of course, none of this actually happened. Probably not, anyways. A girl can dream, right?

There was a time, after Hannah but before Eleanor, that Harry wondered briefly if Louis’ feelings for him went beyond friendship. He had been so afraid of his own feelings then, just barely seventeen and attracted to a boy for the first time, that he tried hard not to notice the way the older boy watched him, more heat in his eyes than usual. Tried not to let his body respond when Louis’ hugs would linger longer than they should have, or when he crawled into Harry’s bed on nights he was too wound up to sleep. He let himself believe that it was totally normal behavior, their constant need for contact nothing out of the ordinary.

 

Maybe if he had been more self-aware, more confident, he could have admitted it to himself sooner and spared himself a little bit of heartache. But he wasn’t, and he didn’t. He simply pushed his feelings aside, buried his attraction to Louis in the deepest part of his heart so that he could cherish the friendship they had built without distraction. It worked well, for a time.

 

And then Eleanor happened.

 

Now Harry and Louis are going their separate ways; giving up their shared flat to try living on their own for a bit. Harry always knew that he’d eventually have to share Louis; that one or both of them would meet a nice girl, settle down, and that things would change.

 

This doesn’t feel like sharing, though. It feels a little more like losing something, like a limb or a small piece of his soul. But Louis is his friend, his best mate, and he wants to support this decision that they made, only he's not sure how, because it definitely was not his idea. Louis decided this, and Harry agreed because he can never say no to the boy standing in front of him.

 

With a heavy heart, Harry plasters an artificial smile on his face and says, ‘call me, yeah?’, and Louis answers, ‘of course’, and smiles that secret smile that’s always been just for Harry. And then he’s gone.

 

X

 

The realization that he is in love with his best friend sneaks up on Harry out of nowhere. They are back in the states wrapping up their summer tour and things have been blessedly normal between them...mostly. Louis, usually taking advantage of any excuse to rib his friend about his reputation for charming the ladies, says nothing about the seemingly endless string of girls on Harry’s arm. And Harry, despite being free to do as he pleases, can’t bring himself to take a single one of them back to his room at night.

 

It happens when Eleanor meets them for their show in LA. Louis invited her out to celebrate their one year anniversary, and even though Harry has seen them together a hundred times over the course of their relationship, he can’t stop the bile from rising in his throat at the sight of Louis’ hands resting on her hips. When she leans in to whisper in Louis’ ear Harry thinks, _mine_ , as the sudden overwhelming jealousy he feels burns a hole in the pit of his stomach.

 

He doesn’t understand it at first. He’s always liked Eleanor, but something has shifted and suddenly the thought of what is going to be happening in Louis’ hotel room later makes him want to tear his hair out.

 

In that instant, he knows that there will never be a ‘right girl’ in his future. How could there be? His heart already unquestionably belongs to someone else and probably always has.

 

He spends the rest of the weekend avoiding the happy couple, and pretending he doesn't see the look of hurt in Louis' eyes whenever they cross paths.

 

X

 

Once his feelings make themselves known, Harry is unable to bury them again. He's forced to admit to himself that the flirtatious nature of their relationship is not typical, and that he's unknowingly been throwing himself at his closest friend for nearly two years. He remembers the times past when it seemed that his feelings may have been reciprocated, and he wishes and wishes that he could turn back time. But wishing gets him nothing more than a string of fantasies involving his friend in a number of compromising positions, making him feel worse, guilt gnawing at his insides like a cancer.

 

Days and weeks pass by in a blur, and Harry is learning to think of his new flat as home, but it still feels like something vital is missing. He tries not to think too hard about what that something is and why it's missing in the first place. He hasn't laid eyes on Eleanor since California, deliberately avoiding any situation that might include her presence, but he knows it's only a matter of time. His conscience is catching up to him and it's getting harder to make excuses when Louis invites him around.

 

Needless to say, he's surprised when Louis shows up on his doorstep in the middle of the night, completely pissed and carrying a duffel over his shoulder. "Eleanor and I have decided to split up _,"_ he slurs and Harry's world tilts on its axis just a little. He thinks about how selfish he's been lately, thinking only of his own sorrow and not noticing at all that his friend's relationship was crumbling.

 

He wants to ask _why,_ but before he can find the words  Louis asks if he can stay.

 

"I couldn't think of anywhere else to go," he mumbles, and he looks so defeated and _broken_. Harry folds the older boy into his arms and says 'always'.

 

They stand there for a few moments, just more than a heartbeat when Louis sighs into Harry's  shoulder and whispers that he wants to tell him everything, but he's not ready yet. Harry nods and moves to look his friend in the eye.

 

There are so many things he wants to say, but he settles on, "I've been a real prat lately, haven't I?". Louis says _yes,_ and pushes past him into Harry's flat. The older boy stumbles to the bathroom, and Harry hears the toilet flush before Louis makes his way back, having grabbed a blanket and pillow from the hall closet on his way.

 

"I didn't mean to wake you, Hazza," he says as he flops down on the sofa. "Go back to bed, yeah? I'll just tuck in here and be out of your hair."

 

Louis' eyes are already closed when Harry reaches down to brush his fringe back off his face. "Good night, Lou," he murmurs, and retreats to his room, crawling between the sheets.

 

It doesn't take long before he hears his door open and the sound of footsteps as Louis crawls in to the bed and wraps himself around Harry's back. With a whispered, _love you, Haz,_ the older boy nuzzles his face into the back of his neck, and Harry tries to ignore the way his heart breaks just a little at the words.

 

 

X

 

 

Things between Harry and Louis are strained. As much as Lou has been camping on his couch and climbing into Harry’s bed at night after he thinks the younger boy has fallen asleep, they still haven’t talked about what happened with Eleanor. Louis never mentions her, except when she’s gone out of town and he needs to go collect the rest of his things from her flat. He doesn’t ask Harry for help, he only says that they agreed it was best if they didn’t see each other for a while, and that this is something he needs to do on his own.

 

Harry finds it harder and harder to meet Louis’ eyes when they are in a room together, fearful that his friend will see into his soul and know the exact depth of Harry’s feelings for him. So he withdraws a little bit more, and he knows the older boy can tell that something is wrong, but Harry never brings it up and Louis never asks. Maybe they are both too afraid of what the truth will hold for them.

 

X

 

All of the boys have gathered at Liam's flat to celebrate his birthday. The drinks are flowing freely and Harry hasn't felt this light in ages, even if he still forces himself to limit any physical contact with Louis. He's sure the other boys have noticed, but thankfully none of them have acknowledged it. He still hopes that eventually his feelings for Louis will fade and things will go back to how they used to be.

 

He doesn't realize how much Louis has had to drink until the older boy flings himself across Harry's lap and says, "C'mon, Hazza. Let me have a cuddle, will you?" Suddenly uncomfortable, he removes Louis from his lap and excuses himself to the loo, explaining, "Just a minute, yeah?"

 

He closes and locks the door behind him, just needing a minute to get his heart and his body back under control. One touch from Louis and he's half hard, a fact he's sure the older boy had to have noticed. He runs the tap and splashes the icy water on his face, forcing his craving for Louis to subside.

 

When he finally feels in control again, he peeks into the lounge room and asks if anyone needs another drink. He's answered with a resounding _yes_ from the group, so he heads to the kitchen, Zayn offering to help.

 

"You should talk to him," Zayn offers quietly, meeting Harry's eyes when he turns and stares nervously at his friend. When Harry doesn't answer, Zayn adds, "He thinks you're angry with him."

 

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he mumbles as he pulls more beers from the fridge and hands them to Zayn.

 

With a sigh, Zayn sets the bottles on the counter and turns to lean back against the hard surface, fixing Harry with an unwavering look. "It's written all over your face, Haz, and I can't believe he hasn't figured it out yet, but it's glaringly obvious to the rest of us. You need to be honest with him."

 

“And tell him what, exactly? That I’m in love with him?” Harry asks in frustration. They all know how he feels, because he’s shit at hiding his emotions and everyone knows it. Christ, he’s admitted to it in interviews more than once. He takes a deep breath, but he’s far from calm when he starts to speak again. “How can I tell him that? That by the time I realized how I felt, it was too late and he was in love with someone else!”

 

Zayn steps forward then and places a comforting hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Harry, it’s not too-”

 

“No, Zayn. It’s too late. I’m too late. He loved her, and now they’ve split up and he needs me to be his friend and I can’t even manage that properly.” He feels defeated, heavy with the weight of all the feelings he’s been holding in for so long. “I just need to try and forget so that we can go back to the way things were before.”

 

He lets Zayn pull him into his arms and takes the comfort his friend is offering and whispers, “Sorry.” He chokes out a shuddered breath as Zayn rubs a soothing hand over his back and tries to tell Harry _everything will be fine, just wait and see._

 

He hears someone clear their throat before he even realizes that anyone has entered the room. When he looks up, it’s Louis standing in the doorway, glaring at Zayn accusingly. “Everything okay, Harry?” he asks, a bit of an edge to his voice that Harry’s never heard before.

 

Zayn answers for him, tells Louis that Harry’s not feeling very well. Harry silently thanks him with a squeeze to his friend’s shoulder and says, “I think I just need to go lie down, get some rest.”

 

Louis nods when Harry asks if he has his key and doesn’t meet his eyes when Harry walks past, excusing himself back to his own flat. He never hears Louis come home, and when he wakes in the morning, he’s alone in his bed for the first time in weeks.

 

X

 

They’re doing a radio interview, some promotional thing to drum up excitement for the new album they are currently recording. It’s just like every other interview they’ve done; thousands of screaming fans outside in the street, and some random dj asking questions that are ridiculous and way too personal to deserve an answer. Harry’s been on edge all day, a prickling heat breaking out on the back of his neck and he knows where this is going. It’s been a long time since it happened and he’s trying to talk himself out of it, but he can feel the panic attack starting to take hold of him long before their host starts asking about Louis' break-up with Eleanor.

 

They are set to sing something, Same Mistakes this time, and it's a good thing that his solo is at the beginning, because by the time they're halfway through, Harry can barely catch his breath. Zayn is seated beside him today, has hardly left him alone since Liam's the other night, and keeps shooting him worried looks. He feels cold and he's trembling as the sweat trickles down the back of his neck, and he _knows_ what comes next and he somehow manages to hold it back till the song is finished and Zayn pushes him out the door in the direction of the nearest toilet.

 

He wretches until there's nothing left but dry heaves and fights back tears because he thought he was past this. This whole situation with Louis has dredged up a lot of his old insecurities, especially when the older boy has been avoiding him since the scene in Liam's kitchen.

 

He knows Zayn was right and that he should just tell Louis, that things between them couldn't possibly get any worse with the revelation of Harry's feelings. He's scared, though; scared of being rejected by the one person who could break him into a million pieces. His eyes are red-rimmed and his face is blotchy when he looks in the mirror, so he splashes some cold water on it, rinses his mouth, and heads back to the studio.

 

Zayn meets him in the hall, Louis right behind him, and tells him they’ve arranged the car to meet him around the back of the building to take him and Louis home. Harry’s confused at first, because _why is Louis going with him_ , but Zayn tells him softly, “You need to get out of here, and the two of you need to talk, Harry. It’s time.” Harry just nods his head in understanding, sort of numb after the strong grip of his earlier panic, and lets himself be led to the door. He barely registers hearing Zayn tell Louis not to leave him alone.

 

X

 

The car ride is sort of awkward. Neither of them says a word, but Harry can feel Louis' eyes on him the whole time, and on top of his attack earlier, it leaves him feeling unnerved, frayed at the edges and raw. He's not sure how this is going to go, but he knows they need to clear the air before this tension breaks them permanently.

 

Louis unlocks the door and steps aside as Harry passes, heading straight for the lounge room and staring out the window. He can hear Louis moving about the room, putting his keys and phone away before laying his coat across the back of a nearby chair.

 

"What was that, back there, Harry?" he hears Louis say softly and his answered _you know what that was_ is maybe a little sharper than he intended. He takes a deep breath and tries again, his tone softer, saying, "Sorry. Feel like i'm failing at everything lately."

 

"What does that even mean? I'd hardly say you're failing, Harry."

 

He turns then, surprised at Louis' words. "Really? Because I'm pretty sure you came here to find some support from your friend, and I've failed spectacularly at that." He's not even mad, not at Louis, but it still comes out sounding like an accusation. Louis has done nothing wrong, and the confused look on his face says that he knows it as well as Harry does.

 

"I used to be the one you came to, the one to help you," Louis states quietly, his voice raw with emotion. "And now, you've started turning to Zayn, and I get that we’re _all_ friends, but it hurts." He can't quite meet Harry's eyes, and Harry knows that it's his own fault that the older boy is so unsure around him now.

 

"Why, Harry? I just want to know why you've been pushing me away." And isn't that the million dollar question? Harry wishes he could just say the words but his _I love you_ is stuck in his throat, and instead he says, "Why did you split with Eleanor?"

 

Louis looks up, startled, and asks, "What does that have to do with anything?"

 

"You left me!" Harry says incredulously before he can stop himself. Softer, he tries to hold back his emotions and repeats, "You left me, to go and live with her. And then you just show up here in the middle of the night, drunk, and tell me it's over and that you’ve no place else to go; no explanation, nothing.  What was I  supposed to do, Louis? I deserved more than that as your best friend."

 

"I had to try, Harry, can't you see that?" Louis snaps. "I had to try to make it work with her, so I moved in. I'm sorry if my leaving hurt you. I know I said I'd explain it all in time, but..." And suddenly Louis looks almost fragile, rubbing his hand over his face and curling in on himself. "It's just complicated."

 

Harry thinks, _complicated,_ and he can feel a strangled laugh rumble up through his throat. He feels like he's losing his mind, his control, and he blurts out, "I'm in love with you, Louis. How's that for complicated?"

 

And _shit,_ he can't believe he just said that, but the look on Louis' face makes him want to cry, scream, take it all back and go on pretending that none of this is happening. When Louis whispers _Hazza_ and steps forward to reach for the younger boy, Harry puts a hand up to stop him. "Please don't, Lou," he manages to choke out. "If this is where you try and let me down easy, save it. I can't take it."

 

He turns back to the window, trying to catch his breath. "I know you're trying to get over her, and I'm trying, _really trying,_  to get past _this_ so I can be the friend that you need, the friend you deserve."

 

He feels more than hears Louis as he comes closer. He wishes that Lou would say something; that he hates him, that he forgives him, anything but the silence that's weighing heavy between them. He's not sure what to expect when Louis finally speaks.

 

"Eleanor...she's like the female version of me, and she should have been perfect, she _was_ perfect for me in so many ways." Louis pauses briefly, taking a shaky breath as he searches for what to say, his voice raw and catching on every other word.

 

"I kept telling myself that if I just tried harder, then maybe I could love her enough...enough to forget about the one thing in the world I wanted but could never have." There's a tremor in his voice that wasn't there a moment ago, and it makes Harry want to reach out and hold him, make this all go away. "I never even told anyone, but somehow she knew. And it wasn't fair to her, to either of us, to keep stringing her along in a relationship that was going nowhere."

 

Harry's shaking now, praying for Louis to say the words he longs to hear, but he's still unsure if that's where this is going. He's afraid to turn around and not see the love he craves in Louis' eyes.

 

He feels Louis' hand on his arm, and it's warm, _so warm_ and Harry feels like he's been cold for so long. He’s missed this more than anything else; the casual way the older boy would touch him, like they shared a secret that nobody else was in on, and these last few weeks without it have been unbearable.

 

There's nothing casual about Louis' touch now.

 

He knows he shouldn't let himself hope, but Louis fingertips are grazing the edge of his star tattoo, thumb stroking over the sensitive skin of his inner arm, and he's never wanted anything in the world the way he wants this boy.

 

"Harry," he hears Louis whisper, his breath warm on Harry's back when he rests his forehead there. "Look at me, Hazza, _please."_

 

Harry hastily brushes the back of his arm across his face, wiping away any evidence on his tear-stained cheeks. Keeping his eyes to the floor, he turns around slowly, still afraid of what he'll find in Louis' eyes.

 

And then Louis' hands are on his chest, his face, in his hair, and he's crying, but Louis _never_ cries and Harry's _so scared_ , scared of what it all means. Their eyes meet and Louis whispers on a shaky breath, "It's you, Haz, it's always been you. I never thought...couldn't have you...I...I tried to move on, but I couldn't stay with her. Not when... _Harry..._ _I love you."_

 

Harry's mind is racing, but his body takes over, his hands reaching to cup Louis' jaw, thumbs gently brushing away the wetness on his cheeks. The first press of lips is tentative, almost chaste, as if Harry is seeking permission. _Is this okay_ he asks without words, and Louis' soft moan says _yes, please_ at the first swipe of Harry's tongue across his lips.

 

Louis is everywhere; his tongue is in Harry’s mouth and he’s wrapped around him like one of those stupid koalas they saw in Australia and it’s everything, _everything_ Harry ever imagined and more. He pushes Louis against against the wall, slipping his thigh between the older boy's legs and rolls his hips because, _god,_ he’s wanted this for so long and he wants it all, doesn’t want to waste another minute overthinking.

 

He kisses his way across Louis’ jaw toward his ear and nuzzles in, breathing in his scent and letting himself get lost. Louis murmurs his name and Harry thinks, _please don’t make me stop, I don’t think I can stop._ Instead, he kisses the older boy again and says, roughly, “Want you, Lou. Want you in my bed for real, naked, spread out for me. Want to touch you, make you mine.”

 

Louis lets out a startled laugh, bordering on a sob and replies, “Yeah. Fuck...yeah, Harry. Just...bedroom...”

 

His hands are on Louis' hips, holding tightly as he starts to lead them in the direction of his room. They're still kissing and Louis is fumbling with his belt and he wants, _fuck,_ he wants so much and he's willing to take whatever Louis will let him have.

 

They stumble over the threshold, nearly falling in their haste, and then they're both laughing and he's never felt so free. Louis is looking up at him and there's still tears in his eyes but he's smiling when he says, "This is real, yeah?" Harry nods, grinning madly when Louis reaches up on tiptoes to kiss him, winding his fingers through Harry's curls.

 

He slides his hands over Louis' stomach, fingers sneaking under the edge of his braces. He hears the older boy gasp as he trails them upward, thumbs teasing his nipples when he moves the elastic over Louis' shoulders to fall at his side. "Always wanted to do that," Harry murmurs into his mouth, sneaking his tongue out to steal a taste.

 

Groaning softly, Louis replies, "Wish you'd tried it ages ago. God, when did you get so bloody tall?" Harry thinks _when you weren't looking,_ but he knows that's not really true, and says instead, "Probably while I was trying so hard to avoid you."

 

The atmosphere is suddenly very serious and he wishes he hadn't said it, but Louis takes his face in his hands and says, "Don't ever do that to me again." Harry just nods and promises _never_ and _I love you_ , and then he's pulling Louis' shirt over his head and trying to kiss and lick and bite every inch of skin he can find.

 

They're scrambling to remove each other's clothes, hurried and clumsy, but somehow they manage, and Louis is stood before him, naked and _beautiful._ He knows he's staring, but he can't let himself feel ashamed because Louis is staring at him as well and it sends a flush of warmth through him.

 

"C'mon, Lou. You've seen me starkers before."

 

Louis shakes his head, stutters a little when he tries to speak. "Not...Never like this. Not when I can touch you, when I know you belong to me." He reaches out with a trembling hand to trace his fingers over the planes of Harry’s chest, his abs, finally coming to rest at his hip.

 

Somehow, the touch must ground him, because he seems to have regained his usual confidence when he says _take me to bed, Haz,_ leaving a trail of wet kisses across Harry's chest. Harry claims his lips and breathes, _yeah,_ and does as Louis asked.

 

X

 

Later, when they're sleepy and sated and tangled together in damp sheets, Harry murmurs against Louis' neck, "I do, you know."

 

Louis leans away a little, trying to see Harry properly in the dim light of the room. "You do what?" he asks, a confused smile playing at the corners if his mouth.

 

He just grins, reaches up to brush the fringe off Lou's forehead before meeting his eyes. "Belong to you. Guess I always have." Louis presses a soft kiss against his lips and pulls him closer, whispers _me too_ before nuzzling in to Harry's neck and finally letting sleep claim him.

 

Harry's not stupid. He knows it won't be easy, that they have a lot of obstacles ahead. But he thinks, as long as they have each other, everything will be just fine in the end.

 

_Fin_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
